Holding on to You
by Ninazadzia
Summary: Kylo Ren/Rey, AU. When Rey Kenobi moved from London to New Orleans, it was to have a fresh start. A great job, a college degree, and a new relationship later, she's just about ready to forget her old life and put it all behind her. And then troubled rich boy Ben Solo pulls her into his orbit, and nothing is ever the same. M for sex and drugs.
1. Prologue: Wait

**Summary**: Kylo Ren/Rey, AU. When Rey Kenobi moved from London to New Orleans, it was to have a fresh start. A great job, a college degree, and a new relationship later, she's just about ready to forget her old life and put it all behind her. And then troubled rich boy Ben Solo pulls her into his orbit, and nothing is ever the same. M for sex and drugs.

**Author's Note:** Alternate universe, chapters won't be in chronological order. I don't own Star Wars.

* * *

**Prologue:** Wait

_~Rey~_

* * *

August, 2018

* * *

There was a moment, right before our lives went to shit, when everything was still.

Sun beamed through the window next to him, casting a halo-like glow on his face. I was somewhere in between awake and asleep, nestling my forehead even further into his shoulder. I could faintly smell the hint of last night's bourbon on his breath, mixed with his aftershave. It was early, the kind of early that called for a strong coffee and an alarm. The sheets were tangled between us, drenched in sweat from the late summer humidity. I could see the outline of his body beneath the sheets—two sweaty, bare bodies, pressed up against one another in the Louisiana heat.

Ben stirred, letting out a deep sigh as he did so. I cracked my eyes open, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He turned onto his side, exhaling, draping an arm over me and nestling his forehead against mine.

We lay in bed for a moment, both slowly coming to terms with the day, neither of us saying anything.

"Rey?"

"Hmm?" I replied, softly.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I pressed my fingers against his lips. "Don't," I whispered. I sunk even deeper into him. Don't ruin the moment. "Let's just be."

He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep it quiet.

I knew what he wanted to say. He'd said it the night before, albeit in a drunken stupor, both of us high on life and liquor and a number of other illicit substances. I'd seen it coming for months, even years—and for as long as we'd been together for and as much as I'd seen it coming, it was another thing entirely to hear the words come out of his mouth. To have him hold my face, in the middle of the street, kiss me feverishly, and breathe those words against my lips.

He traced my forearm, slowly, deliberately.

_I._

I'd always known. I knew it from the moment I met him.

_ Love_.

If only he could get his act together. If only he could be the man I wanted him to be—then maybe, things would be different. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard.

It was with that thought, right as he was tracing "_You"_ on my forearm, at 6:47am on Saturday, that the cops burst through the front door.

* * *

"_There's no end, there is no goodbye  
Disappear with night  
No time…"_

\- Wait, M83

* * *

**Author's Note:** check back on Sunday for an update. Let me know what you think in the reviews!


	2. Chapter One: Feel Again

**Summary:** Kylo Ren/Rey, AU. When Rey Kenobi moved from London to New Orleans, it was to have a fresh start. A great job, a college degree, and new relationship later, she's just about ready to forget her old life and put it all behind her. And then troubled rich boy Ben Solo pulls her into his orbit, and nothing is ever the same.

**Author's Note: **I originally had this chapter written completely differently, and rather than publishing it last weekend, I completely scrapped it and re-wrote it so it fit the narrative better. Nevertheless, I apologize for the delay. Thank you all for the positive feedback so far xx

Chapters are not in chronological order. I don't own Star Wars.

* * *

**Chapter One:** Feel Again

* * *

~Ben~

* * *

"_It's been a long time coming since I've seen your face  
I've been everywhere and back trying to replace  
Everything that I've had till my feet went numb  
Praying like a fool that's been on the run…"_

* * *

September, 2014

* * *

I'll never forget the moment I fell for her.

It was late in the afternoon on a warm September day, the first hints of autumn just hitting the air. I'd posted up on a bench in Audubon Park, in one of the gazebos overlooking the swan lake. I pulled out a wrap I'd ordered earlier that day, chewing it slowly and watching as cyclists rode by me. I recognized a few—a girl that was in my English class my freshman year of college, one of my professors. New Orleans had no shortage of familiar faces.

The late September sun beat down, and the air was thick with the promise of rain. I'd have to go home soon and face my high society, establishment, New Orleans parents, whose restaurant fortune I was the sole heir of. The thought alone nearly made me choke on my lunch.

And, it was as I was sitting on that gazebo bench, thinking of my fucking parents and trying to keep my lunch from coming up, that I saw her.

Raven hair, billowing in the wind as she chased after a German shepherd, running across the park. Her long, muscular legs carried her far, but the dog was faster. Books were falling out of the crossbody bag she had slung across her shoulder.

I realized a second too late that the dog was running right to me. I pulled the turkey wrap away from my mouth, pulling out a piece of the meat. I'd just fed the dog a slice by the time the owner reached me.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry."

She leaned down, pulling the dog by her collar—Bebe, according to the tag—and clipping her leash back on. "I was reading, and I took her off of her leash, and a cyclist must've gotten in front of her or something…" She spoke with a thick, English accent. Her voice trailed off as she looked up at me, stopping mid-sentence.

"Don't worry about it." I held up the wrap. "I wasn't going to finish this anyway."

"Why do you look so familiar?" she asked, her voice suddenly quiet.

Her blue eyes bore into mine. There wasn't a hint of makeup on her face, and I could clearly see the freckles sprinkled across her nose. Any local to the city could attest that New Orleans was the biggest small town in the world. Everyone was a degree of separation from one another. Especially among the private school alumni.

But, no. I'd never met this girl before—I was sure of it. The English accent, the way she haphazardly fiddled with her hair before throwing it over her shoulder, the brightness of her eyes—

That's all it took for me to place her face from my memory. Only this time, her eyes were rimmed with dark liner and coats of mascara, and she was standing behind the bar at the tavern I might as well have grown up in.

Oh, fuck.

"I'm told I have a familiar face," I managed.

She narrowed her gaze. "Well, I'm sorry about Bebe—she can smell turkey from a mile away." She paused, searching my expression.

_Please, God, _I thought. _Please don't tell me you remember that night. _

Then again. Maybe it wasn't her. Hell, it was in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday—if she was who I thought she was, she should be opening the bar right about now. Not strolling through Audubon park.

"So," I started, motioning towards her cross-body. "I take it you're at Tulane?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm a first year at Tulane Law, I'm actually headed to my next class. You?"

Fuck. Yep, this was definitely the same girl. Better pick my next words carefully.

"I graduated from the business school last year."

"Really? That's funny, I'm a bartender at the Bulldog. We hosted the MBA formal last year."

I sure as shit didn't have a familiar face, or a familiar anything, for that matter. I had my father's nose and height, my mother's raspy voice, and jet black hair of my own. All of which made me all too easy to place.

And judging by the look on her face, Rey Kenobi had figured me out.

"I should probably get going," I said, slowly starting to stand up. I pretended to fumble through my pockets, as if they weren't completely empty.

"You're Ben Solo, aren't you?"

I stopped short, keeping my eyes trained on the ground in front of her. No, shit, I shouldn't do that—talk about a fucking coward's move. I braced myself, looking back up to meet her line of sight.

I expected judgment, maybe even a little anger. Instead, her expression was one I couldn't place.

I didn't say anything. Hell, I couldn't. The first and only time I had met Rey Kenobi, I had been a wasted mess, picking fights with Hux and his cronies, on the patio of a bar my parents owned, and at a fucking business school formal, no less. The manager and bouncers had to carry me out, but not before I yelled a slew of expletives at the entire wait-staff.

One of which, as my luck would have it, happened to be directed at the British bartender standing in front of me.

"Well," she started, straightening up and crossing her arms. "If you wanted to apologize for calling me a nasty cunt, now would be the time to do it."

I choked out a laugh, watching as the ghost of a smile played upon her lips. Rey's reputation preceded her. And as it turned out, she was exactly the kind of person my parents had made her out to be.

I exhaled, returning a small smile. "Right. Well, I don't think an 'I'm sorry' is going to cut it—can I take you out for a drink sometime? On a night that you're off, of course."

She paused, glancing me over once. She'd heard stories about me too, that much I knew for sure. Whether they were from the managers of the Bulldog or straight from my parents themselves, I couldn't tell. All I could do was watch as years of less than flattering stories of me flashed before her eyes, and hope that she'd eventually land on something that didn't paint me in the worst light.

She finally looked back up, her blue eyes meeting mine. I'd ask her one day which story she'd landed on, the one that caused her to give me a chance. It was ironic, given what came out of her mouth next.

"Only if it's at Lafitte's, and only if it's a night your father isn't bartending." She pulled her dog towards her, and then turned on her heel to walk away. "You can get my number from the schedule," she called behind her shoulder.

I slumped back onto the bench, watching the back of her head as she walked away. I went back to watching the cyclists pass by for another twenty minutes, slowly chewing the turkey wrap, completely forgetting that Bebe had just slobbered all over it.

* * *

"_Heart still beating but it's not working  
It's like a million dollar phone that you just can't ring  
I reach out trying to love but I feel nothing  
Yeah, my heart is numb_

_But with you, I feel again…"_

~ Feel Again, OneRepublic


	3. Chapter Two: Let Down

Chapter Two: Let Down

* * *

~Rey~

* * *

_"Yeah, I guess I'm a disappointment_  
_Doing everything I can, I don't wanna make you disappointed_  
_It's annoying_  
_I just wanna make you feel like everything I ever did wasn't ever tryna make an issue for you_  
_But, I guess the more you_  
_Thought about everything, you were never even wrong in the first place, right?"_

* * *

October, 2014

* * *

"You're late, Kenobi."

Dameron didn't even look up from the bottle he was polishing as I walked in the door. I took a deep breath in. _It's not worth it,_ I reminded myself. "Sorry. Crazy traffic on St. Charles."

"It's four o'clock and you live right by Newman, and you've worked here for four years. Traffic on St. Charles shouldn't be a surprise, Rey."

I bit my tongue before I could say anything off-color. "Just put me to work."

He finally looked up from the Jameson bottle he'd been inspecting, placing it on the bar. He tossed the rag he was holding in my direction. "I want all of those bottles polished and looking _pristine_ by five tonight. Leia's meeting with a potential investor, I want this bar to be spotless."

"An investor? Who?"

"I don't ask for details, Rey, I just do as I'm told." That was his cue to run out from behind the bar and make a beeline for the kitchen. Probably to give them their orders too. "I suggest you do the same!" he called over his shoulder, before disappearing behind the double doors.

I rolled my eyes, looking at the clock on the wall. 4:03. As if he hadn't shown up ten minutes late yesterday.

I sighed, taking the rag and getting to work. Mine and Poe's working relationship existed on a spectrum that oscillated between 'hating each other' to 'busting-each-other's-balls-while-maintaining-a-façade-of-friendship.' Today, we were apparently on the former end of said spectrum.

He was, unfortunately, the first (and last) meaningless one-night stand I'd ever had in college, during our Freshman orientation week. He'd just finished up his service in the Marine Corps, and was attending Tulane with his GI bill, which made him a solid four to five years older than the rest of our graduating class, myself included. I'd just turned 19 and was still getting used to having bars reject my ID, given that I'd legally been allowed to drink my last year living in London.

Enter Poe Dameron, a 23-year old hotshot who happened to know the bouncer at the French Quarter nightclub my sorry 19-year old ass had been rejected from. He proceeded to ply me with alcohol for the rest of the night and called us a cab back to his "apartment" (if that's what you wanted to call his single dorm) the second I mentioned that I was getting tired. It couldn't remember if I realized he was a complete arse before or after he'd picked up a phone call in the middle of us doing the deed, but the second his thumb hit the "accept call" button, I was out the door.

As luck would have it, he went on to join the same fraternity as my best friend Finn the following semester, who was a bouncer at the Bulldog. Finn would later go on to extend to Poe the same gift he extended to me—an opportunity to interview with Han and Leia for a position at the Bulldog, one of the best bars close to Tulane's campus.

Obviously, as these things go, Poe and I started working at around the same time. He filled a management position because we were seriously short-staffed, he was older and had more work experience, and I filled in bartending a few days a week because it was the only thing I had on my resume from when I lived in London. Over the span of a weekend, Poe Dameron went from being a douchebag one-night stand I'd hoped to never see again, to my douchebag boss. Typical.

But lately we'd been getting along fine, and he normally didn't care if I walked in the door a few minutes late, especially at an off-hour on a Tuesday. _This investor must have Poe nervous, _I thought to myself as I wiped down a bottle of Absolut. I didn't believe for a second that he didn't know who it was—him and Leia were thick as thieves, and when it came to business, Poe was effectively her right-hand man. Especially lately, given how much time Han was spending over on the North Shore.

I watched as Poe snapped at one of the kitchen staffers for improperly folding a napkin. We only served basic bar food, and in my four years working at the Bulldog I don't think I'd ever heard a single complaint about how the napkins were folded. No, Poe knew much more about the investor than he was letting on.

I looked to my left and my right, making sure no one was watching. Poe hadn't finished lecturing the kitchen staff, and our bouncer was standing right outside, preoccupied with his cell phone and the cigarette he was smoking. I poured myself a baby shot of vodka, and took it facing away from the front door.

As if on cue, Ben Solo emerged from the men's bathroom, making direct eye contact with me as I downed the shot.

I immediately dropped the plastic cup into the garbage bin in front of me, blood rushing to my face. Shit.

"Hi," I started, not quite sure to do with my hands. One of them was still holding the rag—the other I'm pretty sure had spilt vodka on it. I settled on awkwardly placing them on my hips.

"Hi." He didn't pull up a barstool, or move any closer. He stood a solid four feet away from me and the bar, like he was an island fixed in the middle of the floor.

The last time I'd seen Ben Solo, he'd promised me apology drinks for behaving like a royal arse when we'd met. He'd never wound up messaging me, and it was all I could think of as I watched him shift his hands in his pocket.

I asked "Would you like anything to drink?" at the same time he blurted out, "I'm sorry I never texted you."

I stopped, reflexively waving my hand. "Oh, please. It's not a big deal," I said, not really knowing if I meant it. Then again, he'd just watched me take a shot of vodka in broad daylight, while on the clock, which was technically very much against his parents' rules. Him forgetting to take me out for drinks should have been the last thing on my mind.

"No, seriously. I said I would, and I didn't. That wasn't cool of me."

I searched his expression. He stepped forward, finally pulling up a barstool, taking his jacket off and placing it on the chair next to him. "I know it isn't quite the same, given that you're at work—but can I order you something?" he asked.

I stifled a laugh. "Now? Seriously?" I was about to say, _you know I'm not allowed to drink on the job, _but I guess I'd already shot myself in the foot with that one. I shook my head. "No, I'm okay, thanks."

"Are you sure? Because technically, this bar is one-third mine—I have just as much say as either of my parents."

I snickered, eyeing Poe as he yelled at our bouncer to "focus" (on what, I would never know). "It's not them I'm worried about."

I didn't need to elaborate further. Ben had his gaze trained firmly on the back of Poe's head, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile.

"Fair enough. I'll have a scotch and soda when you get a second."

I smirked. The 'when you get a second' he tacked on was characteristic of him having grown up in bars and restaurants. It took the pressure off of the bartender or waiter, usually if they were preoccupied with setting up or cleaning or putting out a fire, and the patron in question wasn't on any sort of time constraint. It was a polite way of letting the other person know, "you won't be tipped any less if you need to take care of something else before making my drink."

"So," I started, pulling a handle of Dewars up from the well. "I hear your mum's meeting with a potential investor this afternoon."

"She told me." I slid the scotch and soda to him, and he took a long, drawn out sip. "It's actually part of the reason I'm here."

"Is that so?"

He swirled his drink with the tip of his straw, staring at it for a moment. He looked back up at me. "You've worked here for a while, haven't you Rey?"

"It'll be four years in December. Why?"

"How much time have you actually spent with either of my parents in that time frame?"

I thought about it for a moment. Leia and Han owned twenty-one bars and restaurants in the New Orleans metro area, and in the last year had opened three in Covington and Mandeville, which were located an hour away on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain. Han made appearances fairly regularly when I first started, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him. Leia dropped in maybe once or twice every couple of weeks.

"I honestly don't know. I probably see them a few hours a month." His expression visibly changed as those words left my mouth—whether it was disappointment or something else, I couldn't tell. "Why?"

He nursed his Dewars for a moment before responding. "This was the first bar they opened, you know. I practically grew up here."

"I thought it was Lafitte's."

He shook his head. "They bought Lafitte's around the same time they started construction here, but Lafitte's was an investment. It was never their baby. Not like here."

His words hung in the air for a moment. The meeting with the investor, and Ben Solo's sudden appearance a mere five months after graduating from MBA school—it hit me like a train, right then.

"You're the investor, aren't you?"

He snorted. "Oh, no, there's some other idiot coming in here at five. But whatever offer he makes my parents, I plan on doubling it."

He said it with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if dropping upwards of eight million dollars on a bar was the same as picking up the tab at a restaurant.

I must've stood there with my mouth open for a while, before he finally broke the silence. "So assuming that all goes according to plan, I guess we'll be colleagues."

Colleagues. This is an intentional word choice. He'll be my boss, but he doesn't want to come right out and say it. He wants me to see him as an equal—as a friend.

_So, that's what this is, _I thought. Ben Solo has had a stake in his family's empire his whole life, and as far as I can tell, he'd never once given it a second thought. But now that he was almost six months out of graduate school, it was time for him to take his rightful place as the sole heir of the Solo restaurant fortune. And if he was going to do it, he may as well cozy up to the staff's lone female bartender. The one he called a nasty cunt not a full six months ago, and never really apologized for it afterwards.

Suddenly my face was hot. "I guess so."

I've never been particularly good at hiding my emotions, and this conversation was no exception. The ghost of a frown played on Ben's lips.

"I feel awful about the way that I spoke to you that night," he said, his voice low. Something stormy brewed in his eyes as he said it. It was a touch beyond remorse—there was something else at play. "Please know that I plan on making it up to you."

It took me all of a second to realize that his hand had moved to his pocket, presumably to his wallet. Yep, there it was. I was someone—no, something—to be bought off. I'm sure that's what he was used to, and it's how he'd gotten through life up until that point. I had a hard time picturing him having the grades to get into Tulane on his own accord. I'm sure Han and Leia made a healthy donation to their business school and wined and dined the president of the university before college admissions season. There wasn't a problem money couldn't fix, at least not for the Solos.

And it was at that moment, as I thought of the $60,000 I owed in student loans from undergrad, the fact that I hadn't taken more than a week of vacation in almost four years, and that I worked close to full time while managing sixteen credits a semester, every semester, since my freshman year, that I realized just how much I detested Ben Solo. I'd been willing to give him a pass when he called me a cunt, and write it off as drunken antics, and was pleasantly surprised when he offered to take me out for apology drinks—but clearly he didn't mean it. It was a ploy to get on my good side, to get me to like him. And now I saw him for who he really was.

"I need to finish polishing glasses," I said, pulling my lips into a tight line. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Again, my expression must've spoken for itself. "No, thank you. I'm good."

* * *

"_Yeah, I'ma just ignore you  
Walking towards you, with my head down, lookin' at the ground, I'm embarrassed for you  
Paranoia, what did I do wrong this time? That's parents for you  
Very loyal?  
Shoulda had my back, but you put a knife in it, my hands are full  
What else should I carry for you?"_

~Let You Down, NF


End file.
